


Safety

by lightofhope



Series: Through Time and Space [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Fluff, Gender Dysphoria, Grief/Mourning, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-06 09:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightofhope/pseuds/lightofhope
Summary: Starts during the Crystal Tower questline.  It all begins with a simple talk about relationships.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so in At Peace I mentioned that Ris came out to G'raha during the CT quests, so I wanted to write that and uh... got a bit carried away? Full disclosure, I'm nonbinary myself so this isn't some cis person writing this stuff. ;w; As always, my twitter is @millamaxwell!

“So tell me, Mr. Warrior of Light,” G’raha says, glancing over at his companion with a sly grin. “You’re undefeated in battle, I hear, but what about matters of the heart?”

“What is this, a teenagers’ sleepover?” I’ris laughs incredulously. As NOAH’s excavation of the tower is on hold for the day, the pair have chosen to spend time at their favourite spot in Mor Dhona – a cliff overlooking the Crystal Tower.

“Perhaps,” the red haired miqo’te dangles his legs over the cliff edge idly, eyes fixed on the tower in the distance. “I was simply making conversation, but if you’re too shy...”

“I am not _shy. _I would not say I’m undefeated in that field, but...”

“But?” G’raha leans over slightly to peer at I’ris’ face.

“--You’re going to fall if you do things like that, you know,” I’ris says, warily watching his friend. His heart will fail someday watching G’raha tempt fate, he thinks to himself.

“You’re changing the subject,” despite his quip, G’raha leans back again as if heeding the warning. His balance was most definitely not at risk, but the concern is somewhat endearing. I’ris sighs in defeat, looking over to the tower.

“Even before all this Warrior of Light business, I wasn’t the most… appealing to a lot of people. I tried not to attract attention,” he says distantly. G’raha tilts his head at that with a twitch of his ear.

“Truly? I would’ve thought the opposite.”

“I’m flattered, but there were circumstances that made things...” I’ris pauses, searching for the right word. “Complicated, I suppose.” G’raha raises a hand as if to stop him.

“If I am prying, you do not need to tell me,” he says, concerned, for the friendship they had found in each other something he didn’t wish to damage. I’ris studies him for a for a long moment, lost in thought.

“No, I trust you,” I’ris finally says. The words catch G’raha off guard, his ears twitching curiously.

“If you are sure, then pray, continue. I won’t deny I am curious as to why I had never seen you even in passing, despite us having similar origins,” his hand returns to his side, holding onto the cliff edge lightly.

“I… suppose the simplest way to put it is, I have never been comfortable in my own skin,” I’ris continues. “I was born a woman.”

“Truly?” G’raha quietly asks, finding himself unsure of what to say to this admission.

“It felt _wrong_, but so does the opposite,” the lilac haired miqo’te, perhaps fearing G’raha’s reaction, keeps his gaze fixed on his lap. G’raha instinctively reaches out at this, his hand gently coming to rest over I’ris’ own. I’ris looks at him in surprise.

“So, you are neither?” there is nothing but kindness in his voice and I’ris finds his eyes drawn to his.

“Yes,” I’ris admits quietly. The hand on his lightly squeezes his.

“And that is why?”

“Yes,” comes the repeated reply, his voice very slightly strained but eyes still locked with G’raha’s.

“This may come as little consolidation now, but…” another squeeze of the hand and G’raha shifts slightly closer. “I like you.”

“I--” I’ris’ eyes widen at the confession. “Despite all I have told you?”

“It matters little,” G’raha says, before realising his poor phrasing. “Or rather I should say, of course it matters in the sense it’s a part of you. However it has no bearing on how I feel,” he leans ever so slightly closer, slow enough that I’ris may reject the close proximity if he wishes.

“I… was afraid you would be uncomfortable,” I’ris has never seen G’raha’s eyes so up close. Being so starkly mismatched makes them all the more stunning to him. G’raha’s other hand comes to his cheek and he finds himself drawn in, as if under a spell.

“Never,” G’raha whispers as he closes the distance between them. The kiss is gentle, safe. He smiles against I’ris’ lips, closing his eyes in contentment until they part. The warmth of the other miqo’te’s breath against him tempts him back again. His hand slides into I’ris’ hair to pull him closer – as if now the distance between them has closed, he doesn’t want to part.

I’ris’ heart hammers in his chest as he returns the kiss. He had thought the other scholar interesting – attractive in his eccentric yet playful personality, but never dared to think G’raha would feel similar. The kiss deepens and he feels so warm, safe, wanted that he mentally kicks himself for not making a move himself before this. Eventually, G’raha pulls away, resting his forehead against I’ris’ as they both gasp for air.

“So, I’ris,” he breathes, their eyes meeting once again. “Do you like me, too?”

“Firstly, I think we are past formality at this point,” I’ris replies, pausing as the hand in his hair moves to run a thumb across his bottom lip.

“Then, Ris,” G’raha says his name softly, reverently.

“I do,” I’ris moves to close the distance between them again, speaking against G’raha’s lips. “Raha.”

Despite their shared kisses being an answer in themselves, G’raha’s heart leaps and in a flurry of excitement he kisses I’ris hard, pushing him down against the cool ground. I’ris yelps into the kiss, apparently far more aware of their surroundings than G’raha.

“Raha,” he warns between kisses. “Raha. _Cliff edge._” G’raha, coming to his senses, pulls away, breathless as he looks down at the miqo’te underneath him.

“Oh. I… My apologies,” he carefully climbs off, a sheepish grin on his face. “I got a bit carried away.”

“Just a bit,” I’ris smiles as he sits back up. “Not that I minded. I’d just rather not die making out.”

“But you would like to without the dying part, I take it?” G’raha asks slyly, much enjoying the way I’ris reddens at the question.

“I would,” he says, struggling to meet G’raha’s gaze but trying valiantly all the same. “Very much so.”

“Right now?”

“I. _Yes_.”

“Well then,” G’raha says, his hand coming to rest on I’ris’ again. “I’m sure we can find somewhere safer. But one thing,” he adds softly.

“Yes?” I’ris replies distracted by G’raha’s lips - knowing they would soon be on his again, hopefully for a good while.

“Your secret is safe with me,” G’raha smiles at him, smiling as he gives I’ris’ hand another gentle squeeze. “_You_ are safe with me, and if there is any way I can make you more comfortable, you must tell me.” At this, I’ris feels a lump in his throat. It took such courage to tell the man next to him the truth about himself, but the reward was so, so very worth it. He nods, smiling back as tears of relief sting his eyes.

“Thank you. Truly, thank you, Raha,” he says. G’raha nods in response, climbing to his feet and offering his hand to I’ris.

“Now, I believe we had something planned?”


	2. In which Thancred is Thancred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following their conversation, the pair sneak into the Rising Stones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello I got possessed by a demon that made me continue this

After some debate about where to continue their _conversation_, I’ris decides to sneak G’raha into the rising stones. Very carefully, he peeks his head around the door to check none of his friends are in sight. Thinking the coast clear, he takes his companion’s hand (which he notes he is becoming fond of doing quite rapidly) and leads him in quietly. He turns back to G'raha, signalling at him to be as quiet as possible.

“Sneaking in a companion, eh?” comes a familiar voice from the tables, making I’ris nearly jump out of his skin. He could’ve sworn no one was there a moment ago, but there sat Thancred, looking thoroughly amused. G’raha throws him a friendly wave, clearly just as entertained by the turn of events.

“We’re uh...” I’ris stammers, face burning as he tries to think of a believable excuse for their stealth mission. He throws G’raha a look that screams _help me, this is half your fault_.

“I’ris here has a book he wishes to share with me,” taking pity on him, G’raha steps forward and interrupts, a grin plastered across his face. I’ris’ hand flies to his face, for he has never longed for the sweet release of death more than in this moment.

“So, he’s leading you clearly towards his quarters to fetch said book, while holding hands. Sounds legitimate,” Thancred chuckles, leaning back in his chair with his hands behind his head and throwing his legs up onto the wooden table. Never mind, _now_ I’ris has never wished for death more.

“You have the right of it,” G’raha says, holding back a laugh. “Pray, don’t wait for our return. It is a very old, fascinating tome and we will have much to discuss.”

“Right, well. Don’t let me keep you,” With a knowing laugh, Thancred makes a shooing motion at the pair with one hand. I’ris makes a mental note to beg the man not to spread any strange rumours should he wish to live to see another day. But that will come later. Far too embarrassed to acknowledge Thancred’s words, he tightens his grip on G’raha’s hand and near yanks him along to make a quick exit.

“Nice meeting you!” G’raha calls back to Thancred, who responds to him with a thumbs up. He chuckles to himself as they head along the corridor, past several doors. Confessing has already been so worth it.

Finally, they come to a halt. I’ris turns to look back at G’raha as he opens the door to his quarters.

“You’re both history if word gets out about that,” he says, pouting.

“But you like history,” G’raha quips, laughing as he nearly loses his balance as I’ris pulls him inside. The room is, to his surprise, kind of a mess. Clothes are neatly folded in large, precarious piles, on top of precarious piles of books. He had expected I'ris to be more organised, somehow. “Or perhaps you like fashion more, judging by your… décor?”

“I like both,” I’ris mumbles. He releases G’raha’s hand and looks somewhat lost. “Sorry for the mess, though. I don’t often get the chance to sort my things so--” he finds himself cut off as G’raha wraps his arms his waist and pulls him close. His heart begins to race at the show of affection, completely unused to such things. G’raha smiles apologetically at him and makes use of their near identical height to rest their foreheads together.

“I believe I owe you an apology,” he says. Mismatched eyes stare into yellow, and once again I’ris finds himself unable to look away. “It was not my intention to embarrass you before. It _was_ endearing to watch, but still.”

“You don’t need to apologise. I am not embarrassed by you, just… I am unused to this,” cautiously, I’ris brings a hand to rest against G’raha’s chest. He responds by dipping down slightly to nuzzle at I’ris’ neck, making him gasp softly in surprise.

“Then I will have to get you used to it,” G’raha smiles against his neck. “If you still want me to, that is.”

“You can’t apologise for embarrassing me and then immediately do so again,” he replies, feigning indignance. I’ris feels like his heart feels like it’s making an attempt to spontaneously combust and a swarm of butterflies has taken up residence in his stomach, but it’s most definitely not an unpleasant feeling. “But to answer your question, you are welcome to try.” At this, wordlessly, G’raha kisses a trail up his neck and towards his mouth, claiming it in a gentle, patient kiss.

G’raha Tia does get I’ris used to affection. Used to love.

It makes watching him disappear behind the doors of the Crystal Tower a thousand times worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY... this isn't the end though so don't destroy me quite yet


	3. The Light of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'ris deals with the loss of G'raha to the tower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself sad writing this

G’raha. Meeting him had been both beautiful and cruel, in I’ris mind. The pair had quickly bonded, became close, became _more_, and just as he had dared to think _perhaps I am no longer alone_… suddenly, he was. It was a scene that had repeated itself in his dreams for many a moon, agony to witness each and every time.

  
Each and every time he was called to the rising stones, he saw the tower looming in the distance as if taunting him. To look at the tower from such a distance was to stare directly at G’raha’s slumbering form, and instead of a comfort it was a knife to his chest.

Thancred found him one night, alone in the main hall and staring at the spot G’raha had stood when he first snuck him in. He confided in the man everything, from beginning to end. The scion, in a rare moment of softness, hugged him tightly. Told him he was most definitely not alone. That even though they could not replace him, _and no one ever could_, the scions would always be there. To please not suffer in silence.

And so as he always did, I’ris had carried on, with the scions at his side. Told himself that he was glad for the memories and that, so that G’raha would awaken to a flourishing world, he would continue.

  
But it still hurt. It hurt for so very long. Haurchefant had tried to heal the wound; had been desperate to be a pillar of a support for his hero. The fear of another loss too great, he backed away. And he had been right.

Perhaps he truly isn’t cut out for closeness, he thought, and so he closed off that part of his heart once again. Like before all this.

Five years pass. The hooded man calls to him, speaks of the tower, and though the man had spirited away almost everyone I’ris cares for, a light of hope awakens in his heart.

It burns brighter when he arrives on the first—sees the tower standing tall in the distance. He eagerly follows the Crystal Exarch into the Crystarium. In front of the tower that had been a symbol of pain for so long, they speak.

“The structure is, in fact, the selfsame one you know from the Source, transported to the First in its entirety,” the Exarch tells him, and his heart leaps for a moment, before crashing to a realisation. There had not been a single mention of _him_.

“Just like that? Then… G’raha Tia is…?” I’ris asks, dreading the response.

“...I am not familiar with that name.” the Exarch pauses, looking thoughtful. “Is there something I should know?”

I’ris tells him of G’raha, of how he had sealed himself in that selfsame tower long ago. He speaks slowly and carefully, to keep his voice level. Speaks as if it was someone else who knew the man he describes. It hurts less that way.

“An extraordinary tale,” the Exarch says when he finishes. “But I’m afraid I found no such individual residing in the tower when it passed into my care. Mayhap we can revisit that mystery another time. For now, I think it best that we focus on the present.”

The light of hope all but gutters out.

He asks the Exarch for a moment to compose himself before they continue their conversation – that it was a lot to take in, not _you just told me the man I loved is gone and now you expect my help in your own matters._

He rounds a corner into an alleyway, and allows himself to slide down the wall. His well fought for composure breaks. He weeps.

As always, he was a fool to hope.

The Crystal Exarch finds the guilt to be much more agonising than expected.


	4. Shines On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'ris and the Exarch have a moment to themselves before the showdown on Mt. Gulg, and...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to rewatch two scenes that make me cry for this chapter :)  
Also it wasn't beta'd so sorry if there's any odd typos, I might edit a lil later if I notice any!

Despite the painful news he had heard from the man upon his arrival, he had found himself drawn to the Crystal Exarch. Something about him felt familiar in a way I’ris could not place. He trusted the him—felt oddly safe and at ease around him. He told himself that was simply that he is a good ally. But when I’ris found himself thinking of the Exarch in idle moments, of the warm way in which he often spoke to him… That was less easy to come up with an excuse for.

It’s not until he finds the Exarch slumbering against a rock that he finally begins to fully realise.

“The future is where my destiny awaits...” the man mumbles, still half asleep, and the penny drops. I’ris has heard those words before. Once, in the waking world, and many, many times in his dreams. He tells himself it’s a coincidence, it has to be because G’raha is _gone_. He doesn’t believe himself, _can’t_, because... Before I’ris can continue that thought, the Exarch jolts awake.

“Forgive me, I was… lost in a dream,” he shakes the sleep from his mind and looks up at I’ris. Allowing the miqo’te no chance to ask of it he begins to explain that he merged himself with the tower, that being away for long leaves his body weak and frail. Each word is a knife to I’ris’ chest and though he tells himself he simply cares for his friend, in his heart he knows the true reason.

“Though, in truth, it is debatable whether I can still call this my body...” I’ris winces as the Exarch examines his crystallised arm, voice laced with a faint sadness. The feeling of one’s body feeling wrong familiar to him, I’ris opens his mouth to speak in comfort. However, the Exarch to beats him to it as if sensing his pity, ever one to put himself last.

“This may be the last moment we have to ourselves for a while. Come, sit with me,” he smiles up at I’ris, gesturing at the ground beside him. The miqo’te obliges, his heart and mind racing.

_Coincidence_, I’ris repeats in his head as if it’s his new motto. The fear of being wrong and the desperation to be right wage war in his mind as the pair sit in silence for a time. He wants to ask. He wants _so badly_ to ask so he can put this silly theory to rest.

“What do you intend to do when this is over?” the Exarch breaks the silence, pulling I’ris from his thoughts.

“...Rest a while, perhaps,” he responds, praying the way his voice wavers goes unnoticed. If the Exarch does notice, he politely ignores it as I’ris continues. “I might… take my time returning to the Source.”

“That would be appreciated by many people here, I’m sure,” the Exarch says, voice warm and kind and I’ris wills himself to ignore the butterflies fluttering into life in his stomach. “The Crystarium as a whole has grown very fond of your presence, for one.”

“What about you? What’s next for the Crystal Exarch?” I’ris asks, thankful to have wrestled his words into coming out even. He leans back on his hands and studies the man carefully. If only he would give some clue, some concrete proof for or against I’ris’ theory so this wretched anxiety would stop. The Exarch takes time responding, as if he hadn’t even thought of future plans.

“I once told you that there are things we can ill afford to lose,” he begins slowly, carefully selecting his words. “Things, I said, though in truth I spoke of a person. One who is unaware of the full extent of my plans. Though he deserves to know, I have good reason to keep my counsel.”

I’ris listens intently to each word, each syllable, a silent prayer in the back of his mind.

“I have come to terms with this in my mind, yet my heart yearns to lay everything bare.”

The Exarch continues to speak of this person so beloved to him, of his dreams of adventuring with him, and I’ris doesn’t need to see what lies under that hood because he knows. He would wager his life on it. The fondness, the _love_ in the Exarch’s voice, a tone he had heard so long ago, making his heart twinge with longing. The words the Exarch had spoken in his sleep were not mere coincidence. _He knows_ and the light of hope bursts magnificently into life once again and he almost laughs at himself for ever letting it go out.

G’raha. _Raha_. Pure joy bubbles in I’ris’ heart as he looks at the man before him. There’s no doubt in his mind and it takes all of his willpower to not knock back the Exarch’s hood in pure elation. He is alive. _He is alive_.

But he had said himself he has reasons to keep quiet, and I’ris finds himself torn between his heart and his mind. This world has become precious to him in his time here and if he were to jeopardise it—as much as he feels _I realised the only person I’ve ever truly loved is alive_ is a perfectly valid reason—he would not forgive himself, and so he decides to hold his peace. For now, the knowledge that G’raha is safe will carry him forward. _After we defeat this final Lightwarden_, he thinks, _I will speak to him_. A promise to himself and G’raha both.

“But all of this is contingent upon our victory in the upcoming—” the Exarch falls silent abruptly, looking at him in concern. “Are you all right, friend?”

I’ris realises tears have escaped despite his best efforts to hold them back, and in that moment the Exarch reaches over. Hesitantly, a crystal hand comes to I’ris face, thumb gently wiping away a tear with all the tenderness of the past that lay between them. I’ris can’t help but smile, warm and genuine at the gesture and the Exarch gazes at him for a long moment as if lost in a daze. It’s him. _It’s him_.

All too soon, he realises what he has done and hastily pulls his hand away.

“My… My apologies, I know not what overcame me,” he stammers out. _We both know_, I’ris corrects him mentally, already missing the cool touch of crystal. “Forgive me, friend. It won’t happen again.”

“It’s fine,” I’ris says, smile still fixed on his face. “I thought it was sweet.”

“Pray tell me,” the Exarch clears his throat awkwardly, desperate to move the conversation along. “What struck your emotions so?”

I’ris has the urge to simply say “_you, __idiot_”, but resists. Instead, another idea forms.

“I will tell you when this is over.”

The Exarch watches him – perhaps wondering if he has been caught out. Nevertheless he nods, not pushing for an answer.

“I will hold you to that.”

The light of hope shining brighter than ever before, I’ris looks to the sky, resolved to see the night sky restored once and for all.

* * *

The light feels as if it is tearing at his flesh, warping his bones into something else entirely. Whether it truly is, or if it is simply a sensation, he is unsure. His friends look on in horror, helpless as he writhes.

He had taken in too much light, after all.

Through the blinding light he sees a figure calmly approach and his insides lurch. G’raha. What is he—No. _N__o_. He can’t hear what the Exarch is saying over his own heartbeat but all at once he knows this isn’t good. He soon feels the all consuming light begin to drain from him and he knows what G’raha is doing. Why he hid himself. All this time, he had been planning to—

“Your tale will continue, and my role in it will scarcely be remembered,” he says, smiling down at I’ris.

_It would be remembered by me_, I’ris wants to say. Wants to scream at him that it’d be too much. That there must be some other solution.

The Exarch’s cowl flies back, pushed by the force of the spell, and despite the situation I’ris feels his heart flutter upon seeing the G’raha’s face for the first time in five years. How painfully he wishes he could’ve seen it in different circumstances. G’raha’s hair has begun to whiten and a scar of crystal strikes a path across his cheek, but the man before him is otherwise unchanged from his memory. Striking red eyes look at him with nothing but love and this alone is more agonising than his current state.

He looks at his would-be saviour pleadingly, reaching out. Tries to choke out pleas for him to stop. That he can’t bear to lose him a second time. Not like this.

“Do not look at me so,” G’raha smiles regretfully at him. “You were the love of my life, I’ris. I am so very glad I had the chance to see you again.”

I’ris screams his name as the transfer of aether intensifies. This can’t be happening, not when what he’d longed for so long was finally within his grasp. He chokes on bile, stomach long since emptied. He can’t let this—

A shot rings out.

After a long, excruciating moment, the spell dissipates. I’ris watches in utter horror as G’raha falls, _slumps_ to the floor in a way that seems all too final. He waits for movement. _Prays_ for movement but there is none.

Emet-Selch saunters up to the downed Exarch.

Is he breathing? I’ris can’t tell through the light. Fighting through the continued agony, he claws his way across the marble floor. _I’m a healer_, he thinks desperately, _I can save him_. He is within arm’s reach, hand inches from I’ris own and yet...

“Stay put,” Emet-Selch warns. “Your friend is still alive, but whether he remains so depends on you.”

He speaks of the Ascians’ scheming in the First, of how he created Vauthry. I’ris cares little in that moment, eyes fixed on the Exarch’s downed form until the Ascian crouches next to him.

“Whether you will it or no, your mere existence will serve to engulf the world in light.”

I’ris knows this is true. The night sky is no more and it is all because of him. Because he cannot contain the light they had fought so hard to seal away. His gaze flickers between G’raha, checking on him, and the Ascian as he continues to speak to him.

Emet-Selch spirits the Exarch away and I’ris curses his current state. The Ascian offers him respite, says he will be waiting for him in the Tempest and he swears to himself, he will survive this day. He will take back the man he loves even at the cost of his own existence.

Everything goes white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two more chapters!! Thank you for sticking with me this far!


	5. Still Beloved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes hi I didn't forget about this I've just been busy and unable to focus on it.

I’ris holds his very being together with all of his might as they journey through the Tempest. In the terrifying moments where it’s almost too much, the knowledge he has something he must do—someone so very dear that he must save, keeps him whole.

The moment he lays eyes on G’raha in Amaurot, beaten and bloodied but _alive_, he feels as if he could cry. Wants to run to him, finally, finally hold him again. Call him a fool—an arsehole, for leaving, for making him grieve as if G’raha had died that day he sealed the tower. Call him even worse yet for hiding his identity. Even worse still for having the gall to try to _actually_ die for his sake.

And then welcome him back.

But Emet-Selch stands between them. Between him and the man he has missed for long five years—nothing compared to G’raha’s suffering, but painful all the same. And so he pushes his feelings to the back of his mind, for the moment. _For the last time_, he thinks, whether he survives this day or not. He knows full well the latter to be the more likely.

So when Y’shtola and Ryne tell him his aether is back to how it should be—that his very soul has been repaired, his heart soars. It flies higher still as G’raha sheepishly approaches the scions and offers an apology, avoiding meeting I’ris’ gaze for longer than a moment. Without hesitation, I’ris strides past his friends, coming to a halt before the Exarch and pulling him into an embrace; all the insults he had earlier wished to hurl now a distant memory.

“Good morning, Raha,” I’ris whispers into his ear—which he fondly notes immediately twitches as it always used to—the words only meant for the two of them. G’raha lets out a sob as his arms fly around I’ris in return, both of them clinging as if frightened this moment is yet another dream.

The scions give them space. They can’t stay long, but they know this moment is well deserved by the Warrior of Darkness and Exarch both.

Satisfied they are indeed awake, the pair pull back slightly to look at each other.

“Good morning,” G’raha finally responds, offering I’ris a bright, fond smile. He brings a hand to the face he has seen up close only in dreams for over a century, thumb sliding under I’ris glasses to gently wipe away tears the other hadn’t even noticed were falling.

The twins happen to look over at this particular moment, and if possessed of a sixth sense, Alisaie’s hand clamps over her brother’s mouth just in time to muffle his yelp of embarrassment as I’ris leans in to kiss the Exarch.

“Pray, not here,” G’raha says abruptly, but softly, his thumb stroking I’ris’ cheek. “Do not misunderstand—I wish to. But I fear I would not be able to hold back, and this is hardly the place.” The younger miqo’te can’t help the frustrated pout that crosses his face and G’raha finds himself chuckling in response. _Endearing as ever, _he thinks.

“You disappear on me again before I can kiss the living daylights out of you and _I swear to the Twelve_,” I’ris grumbles. The Exarch is right, however; he’s not sure he would be able to reign himself in, either. G’raha nuzzles his nose against I’ris’ in response, to appease him for the time being.

“I doubt I would get too far with a bullet in my back,” the quip is both painful and so undeniably G’raha, his Raha, that I’ris feels fresh tears well up. “I’m sorry, I simply meant--”

“I know what you meant, don’t worry. Let’s get you back to civilisation so you can stop being home to a bullet,” I’ris jests, releasing the Exarch from his grasp but making sure to take his hand. G’raha nods, giving I’ris’ hand a gentle squeeze, smiling at the familiarity of it.

Their hands stay tightly linked for as long as the journey will allow.

* * *

They take their time returning to the Crystarium. Shortly after the group reaches dry land, the Exarch, finally drained of the adrenaline that had kept him going as far as it did, collapses. They make the decision to stop in Eulmore to allow him to rest and I’ris and Alphinaud to tend to his wounds (the latter insisted—said he had to make sure his friend didn’t wear himself out).

G’raha sleeps for much of their time there. It’s no surprise after everything he’s been through, but I’ris grows more and more anxious to speak to him to the point it’s almost unbearable.

He finally awakens, after how long he isn’t entirely sure, to find the room only very dimly lit. _Night truly has returned, then,_ he notes with a sigh of relief.

“Good to see you’re finally awake,” a voice pulls him from his thoughts. He looks over and spies Thancred leaning against the wall, watching him. “If you’re wondering where Ris is, the others forced him to rest. He insisted I keep an eye on you.”

“I see,” G’raha can’t help the pang of disappointment at having to wait to finally speak to him properly. But he can wait. A while longer is nothing compared to the last century. “Please tell me he didn’t exhaust himself for my sake.”

“That, I cannot. A skilled chirugeon who lives here offered their services, so the two of them tasked themselves with relieving you of that bullet Emet-Selch so kindly gave you,” Thancred walks over and sits himself on the chair beside the bed, arms crossed. “Ris insisted on wearing himself out fix you up afterwards, despite Alphinaud pestering him to let him take over.”

“I will need to thank them later, then. And… apologise for the fright I must’ve given him.”

“You did more than give him a fright, Exarch. Do you have any idea what you’ve put him through? And I don’t mean just in the First,” Thancred’s tone is stern as he looks down at G’raha.

“I… will admit I don’t know the full extent,” he responds truthfully. As the history books had no mention, he had few ways of knowing. “But I can tell my leaving had a greater impact than I expected.”

“You broke him. You gave him hope, then took it away,” Thancred says bluntly and G’raha finds himself at a loss for words. He had suspected, even on the day he sealed the tower, that I’ris would struggle. “And you can see why him being so eager now concerns me. Concerns all of us.”

“I understand your concerns—even feel them myself, if I am to be honest. I know not why I am still here, or how long I have,” the thought of his demise still being in the cards pains him, but there’s no denying that his continued existence is a mystery. One he prays the answer to is good.

“And?” Thancred presses him, not satisfied with just this. He doesn’t believe the Exarch a bad person by any length, but he can’t help but feel protective.

“All I can offer is my assurance that, given I am capable of preventing such a thing, I have no intention of leaving him behind again. I...” G’raha trails off, feeling his throat tighten—being interrogated over his feelings a little too much in his weakened state.

“You truly love him after all this time, don’t you?” Thancred sits back in his chair, a faint grin on his face. “Feels like a lifetime ago that I caught the pair of you sneaking around.”

“For some, it has been,” G’raha says, the memory somewhat hazy after so long, but precious all the same. “But to answer your question, yes. More than I know how to say.”

“I think your actions have spoken enough, Exarch,” Thancred pats him on the shoulder, as if giving him his approval. “Just… take care of him, all right?”

“I will. I swear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> self, please give them proper alone time already (there's one chapter left so guess what's finally coming maybe)


End file.
